


Fifteen Days

by lostresidentevilpotter



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Alicia dies. And then she dies again. And again. Over and over, she dies and she wakes up like it never happened. The universe must be trying to tell her something.
Relationships: Alicia Clark & Luciana Galvez, Althea & Alicia Clark, Althea/Alicia Clark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79





	Fifteen Days

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm already back! This is another one I had mostly written from like last semester, so I finished this one up too (since I'm not leaving my house). Hope you enjoy it!

_Day One – June 25_

It starts like any normal day. Alicia wakes up. She showers. Ties her hair back. Buttons a flannel shirt over a tank top, rolls the sleeves halfway up her forearms. Living at the denim factory has instilled in the group a newfound sense of security – a dangerous sense of security, really. Alicia steps out of the bathroom fully dressed but without a weapon. She attributes their relative safety to the factory’s fortress-like appearance. There could be a hundred thousand walkers outside of the factory, and even if they got past the fence and the river, they’d never break into the factory itself.

She doesn’t need to be armed at every second of every day. She can leave her gun barrel and Glock in the room they’ve converted into an armory, and she feels safe. Maybe when Morgan finally finds people to rescue and take into their fortress, Alicia will start carrying a weapon again. But for now, this is as comfortable as the apocalypse gets. Running water, a regular supply of food (so far), and walls to shield them from the elements.

Most of the day’s a blur, just like the rest. There’s always work to be done, but there’s time to relax, too. Alicia thinks she plays a board game with Charlie. She hits golf balls over the fence with Strand. She cooks lunch with Luci and watches the nightly movie after dinner. It’s her night to secure the perimeter and kill any walkers pressing against the chain link fence. She grabs her gun barrel from the armory and heads outside.

Alicia hates to admit it, but the gun barrel, after all these months, is starting to feel foreign in her hands. It used to be the natural extension of her arm, and now…she feels out of practice, at least. She steps out into the cool night air, gun barrel in one hand, flashlight in the other. She sweeps the beam of light along the fence, walking the entire perimeter until she’s back where she started. She’s satisfied, at first, but the sound of snapping twigs draws her attention to the side of the fence that faces the woods.

Alicia aims the flashlight in that direction, tightening her grip on the gun barrel. She takes a few steps toward the fence, squinting out at the figure as it shambles into view. It’s tall, probably used to be a man, covered in blood, and Alicia waits near the fence for it to come close enough for her to kill.

Her first mistake is assuming it’s a walker.

They stop walking before they reaches the fence, and Alicia balks. The little warning goes off in the back of her brain, reminding her that walkers don’t stop when they see prey. Then the not-walker pulls a gun from their waistband and fires off one shot.

The gun barrel hits the dirt first, then so does Alicia. She manages to keep ahold of the flashlight, that useless hunk of plastic, and she gapes as blood spreads across the front of her shirt. She reaches for her chest with her free hand, staring in horror at a wound that looks similar to the one Nick received from Charlie.

The back door slams shut, and three shots are immediately fired off. Whoever’s beyond the fence drops, and someone rushes to Alicia’s side.

“Oh my God,” Al breathes. She pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and presses both her hands to Alicia’s chest, and Alicia dazedly thinks back to Nick. She’s going to die exactly like her brother. Isn’t that odd?

Alicia opens her mouth to say something, but her words are lost in the blood that bubbles up from her throat, rolls down her chin. Alicia coughs in an attempt to clear it, but that only brings more blood. She lifts her eyes up to Al’s face, to her horrified expression, to the pain shining in her eyes.

“Shh, shh,” Al says. “Don’t try to speak.”

The pressure against Alicia’s chest stays constant, and she can only focus on breathing and staying conscious. She knows it’s a losing battle. The darkness creeps up on her, closing in on all sides, long before June ever gets to her side. Not that June could do anything. The bullet obviously hit something important. A lung, maybe. Her heart?

“I’m sorry,” Alicia barely manages to say. The two words come out garbled, but Al nods like she understands.

“It’s okay,” Al assures her. The pressure releases from Alicia’s chest, but instead of being able to breathe, she feels like she’s suffocating. Al’s bloodied hands grasp Alicia’s tightly, and Al falls back onto her ass, clutching Alicia’s hand against her chest.

Alicia appreciates the gesture. She stares wide-eyed up at Al the entire time, not aware of Luci’s hysterical crying or June’s resigned sadness. Strand picks up the gun barrel, waiting. Alicia stares up at Al, and she wonders why she never noticed how pretty Al’s eyes are until now, while she’s lying in the dirt dying, just as her brother had.

Her hand loosens in Al’s grasp as Alicia loses the strength to hold on. She makes sure to close her eyes.

_Day Two_

This place is too dingy to be Heaven. But it can’t be Hell, Alicia thinks. She was expecting more fire. Not a room barely big enough to hold one twin bed and a desk.

Wait.

Alicia bolts upright, pressing her hands against her chest. She looks down. She’s in the pajama pants she’d been wearing the night before. Same tank top, too. It’s got the little grease stain on the front. Alicia pulls the collar of the tank top down and stares at her chest. No bullet wound. No scar. Nothing.

But – she _died_ , didn’t she? She was shot last night – or has that not happened yet? Is it tomorrow or did she wake back up on the day of her death?

Or was it a dream? What’s going on?

Alicia rushes out of her bedroom. She opens the door, thinking maybe this is a trick and she’ll open it and either be greeted by singing angels or by the devil himself. She gets neither. She sees the same empty hallway she’s been seeing every day for the past few months.

So what the _fuck_? Alicia is almost certain she’d died. She has vivid memories. Getting shot. Holding Al’s hand. _Dying_. How can she remember dying if it didn’t happen?

Maybe she’s wrong. Maybe she wasn’t shot where she thought she was, and maybe June patched it up. Maybe she just hadn’t seen the scar. The lighting in her room is bad, after all. So, standing in the doorway of her room, Alicia rolls her tank top all the way up and inspects her torso.

Nothing. Not even a freckle out of place.

How is this _possible_?

“Whoa, oh my God,” someone says. Alicia quickly yanks her tank top down, feeling her face redden, as her eyes land on Al. She’s only just rounded the corner, but surely she got an eyeful. Al’s hand is clamped over her eyes. “What are you doing?” Al demands.

“I, uh – I don’t know,” Alicia stammers.

“Am I safe to look?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Al lowers her hand and opens her eyes. “Alicia, what the fuck?” Al says. “There are kids – well, there’s one kid – around here.”

“It’s just…what happened last night, Al?”

Al stares at her like she’s grown a second head. “Well,” Al says carefully, “we had dinner, watched _Casablanca_ for the fiftieth time, and went to bed.”

“Who secured the perimeter?” Alicia asks. She leans back into the doorframe for support, afraid of what Al’s answer is going to be.

“John,” Al says.

“It wasn’t me?”

Al blinks. “It’s your turn tonight,” Al says. “Are you feeling alright?”

Alicia swallows hard. “Not really, no,” she admits.

“Do you need me to get June?”

“No!” Alicia exclaims, too quickly. Al startles, and Alicia tries to backtrack. “It’s just – I had a really strange dream.”

Al nods, openly wearing her confusion. “Right,” Al says. “Keep your clothes on when you’re in the hall, though, yeah?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Al starts to continue down the hall, stepping past Alicia, but before she can disappear into her room, Alicia rushes forward and grabs her wrist.

“Hey,” Al says, pulling away. “What’s your deal?”

“Al, what day is it?” Alicia asks.

“You’re starting to freak me out, Clark,” Al says. “It’s June 25.”

That’s not possible. _Yesterday_ was June 25. Alicia died around 9 p.m. on June 25. So how is it the morning of June 25?

Al snaps her fingers in front of Alicia’s face and says, “You in there?”

“Sorry,” Alicia says. “I – I gotta go.”

Alicia locks herself in the bathroom and stares at herself in the mirror until she can’t take it anymore. She doesn’t know how to prove to herself that she’s alive, that this is any more real than yesterday. That yesterday even happened. Apparently, yesterday technically is June 24, but that isn’t possible, because Alicia already lived – and died on – June 25. How can she live it again?

Maybe it really was an extremely vivid dream.

As the day proceeds normally, Alicia comes to the conclusion that yes, it was just a dream. There’s no other logical explanation. No one else seems to realize June 25 has already happened.

Alicia tries to go through the day like normal. She showers. She’s irrationally afraid she’ll be doomed to repeat yesterday’s events, but that passes when she nicks herself shaving. She hisses and rinses the small droplets of blood down the drain. Just to make sure today is a different day, Alicia puts on different clothes.

She plays games with Charlie. Cooks lunch with Luci. She eats dinner and offers to do the dishes. She takes her time and misses the first ten minutes or so of the nightly movie. Alicia checks the clipboard John set up, and tonight’s movie is _Citizen Kane_. Another movie they’ve watched fifty times, it feels like. She’d rather watch _Psycho_. Or _Singin’ in the Rain_. And once she realizes she’s missed the first ten minutes, she figures she might as well miss the rest.

Last night – the first June 25, if that wasn’t a crazy-realistic dream – Alicia watched the entire movie, start to finish. Alicia’s halfway to her room before she remembers: it’s her night to secure the perimeter. She swallows down the oncoming sense of dread. That was a dream. Or if it happened, somehow – if the laws of nature bent in Alicia’s favor – it certainly can’t happen again. Besides, Alicia went out around 9 last night. When she steps outside to secure the perimeter tonight, it’s only 8:30.

Satisfied when she finds nothing, she starts to head for the back door.

Rustling in the woods catches her attention. She reaches for her Glock – she left it inside. Alicia learns from her mistakes, though. She heads back inside and retrieves her Glock from the armory. She checks that it’s loaded. She’ll shoot first, ask questions later. She hears _Citizen Kane_ coming from the projection room, and she slips back outside. She heads toward where she’d been shot last night – if that happened, and she has a nasty feeling it might’ve – aiming the Glock and the flashlight at the trees.

Her eyebrows pull together when she finds nothing. But she definitely heard a rustling. She starts taking steps back, away from the fence, closer to the factory. She’ll just alert Morgan to a potential perimeter breach, and they’ll find a way to fix it.

God, maybe she’s losing it.

A twig snaps somewhere to Alicia’s left, and she whips around, firing into the darkness. The bullet hits a tree, and the second shot that’s fired doesn’t come from the Glock. The Glock falls to the ground with the flashlight, and the first thought that runs through Alicia’s mind as her legs give out is _what the fuck?_

She reaches for her chest, finds the blood spreading across her shirt. She coughs, and blood splatters down her chin. The back door slams shut. Three shots are fired. Whoever’s beyond the fence hits the ground. Someone reaches Alicia’s side, and she stares frantically up into Al’s eyes.

She has to tell her. She has to find a way to tell Al that this already happened, that she should already be dead. Alicia opens her mouth to speak, but her mouth fills with blood. She spits it out impatiently. She needs to say this. Al presses her hands against Alicia’s chest, but Alicia knows how this will go. The bleeding won’t stop.

“Al,” Alicia breathes. She spits more blood as Al shushes her.

“Don’t try to speak,” Al says. “It’s okay.”

“No,” Alicia whispers. “This – already happened.”

“What?”

“Already…happened.”

Al doesn’t understand. It’s all over her face. Alicia exhales. She doesn’t have the energy to speak again. Instead, she pulls Al’s hands away from her chest. She wants to get this over with. Al refuses to let her go, and Alicia’s hand slips around in Al’s, thanks to her own blood.

Alicia isn’t afraid to die. She’s had so many close calls. No, she’s more afraid she _won’t_ die. She doesn’t know how to communicate this to Al, no matter how long they stare into each other’s eyes. Al breathes heavily, borderline panicking, but her eyes never leave Alicia’s, not even as June reaches her side.

“It’s too late,” Al insists. “Don’t crowd her.”

June backs off. Alicia chokes on the blood rising in her throat, and Al gently nudges Alicia’s face to the side so the blood will pour out, but it’s not good enough. Her lungs are filling with blood. Every breath is a struggle. Alicia silently begs for it to end, staring unblinkingly up at Al. She’s vaguely aware of the others around them, but all she sees is Al.

Alicia can’t speak through the blood, but she has enough energy left to mouth _don’t go_. Al nods, pressing her lips together and tightening her hold on Alicia’s hand. She brings her other hand up to Alicia’s jaw, and Alicia lets her eyes close. She tries to swallow, but it’s futile. There’s too much blood. She wants to tell Al to put her out of her misery, but she never gets the chance.

_Day Three_

When Alicia wakes up, she squeezes her eyes shut. This can’t be happening. Not again. Alicia scrambles to her feet. There’s a little grease stain on the front of her tank top. Beneath it, her skin is unblemished. No sign that she’s taken two bullets to the chest in two days.

“Motherfucker,” Alicia blurts. She pushes her hands into her hair and starts pacing. _What_ is going on? This isn’t natural. And it _can’t_ be a dream. Alicia rushes out into the hall. Her chest constricts. She’s in the factory. She doesn’t know what she expected. She entertains the thought that maybe, _maybe_ this is what it’s like to be dead. Maybe Hell is just repeating your last day alive over and over and over for all eternity. Maybe –

Alicia hits the tile hard on her knees, struggling to breathe. She’s either lost her mind, she’s dead, or – or she really died and woke up from it twice. So far. That thought’s enough to make her panic even more, making it harder to draw a full breath.

“Hey!”

Alicia barely looks up before Al’s at her side, kneeling beside her. Al seems to understand, on some level, what’s happening, even if she doesn’t know the details. Al grasps onto her shoulder, and Alicia feels her body beginning to relax.

“It’s okay,” Al says gently. She releases Alicia’s shoulder, rubs her back instead. “It’s okay. You can breathe. Just take your time.”

Alicia nods, and slowly but surely, air starts to fill her lungs easier than before. Al doesn’t leave her side until she’s taking full breaths.

“Can you stand?” Al asks. Alicia nods again. Al gets up first, offering both hands to Alicia. She pulls Alicia up, and Alicia grasps onto Al’s forearms. “What happened?” Al asks.

Alicia shakes her head. She wants to get out of Al’s space, but she can’t stand on her own. She can’t explain it. Al won’t believe her. She’ll think she’s lost it. “I don’t know,” Alicia answers. “Panic attack? I don’t know – I don’t know why.”

“Okay,” Al says. “It’s okay. June can –”

“No!” Alicia blurts. “I can’t see June.”

“Okay,” Al agrees. “Alright. Then let’s sit down.”

Alicia nods and leads Al the ten steps back into her bedroom. It’s a small space for one person, let alone two, but Alicia doesn’t protest when Al guides her to take a seat on her bed. Al pulls Alicia’s desk chair out and drops into it.

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Alicia admits.

Al laughs uneasily. “You’re joking.”

“No.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You won’t believe me,” Alicia says.

“You sure?”

Alicia nods. She puts her face in her hands then dares to ask, “What day is it?”

“June 25.”

Alicia exhales. “That’s what I thought.”

Al stands. “Come on. You should eat something.”

Al holds her hand out, and Alicia takes it and stands shakily. Rather than pulling away, she holds onto Al’s hand tighter. Alicia lets Al lead her to the kitchen, doesn’t protest when Al makes her breakfast, and eats every single bite, as sick as it makes her feel. She should be happy to be alive, she thinks as she swallows another mouthful of oatmeal. Even if she’s trapped on June 25, at least she’s here, living and breathing.

Al doesn’t eat with her. Al hoists herself up onto the countertop and sits with her legs dangling off the edge. They don’t talk. Alicia doesn’t know what to say, anyway. They aren’t friends. They’re barely acquaintances. She hands her empty bowl to Al and gives her a look she hopes suffices as a _thanks_.

Alicia changes up her routine, just to make sure that she can. She decides not to shower today, and no supernatural force makes her. She checks her leg, but there’s no sign of the cut she’d given herself shaving from yesterday. She vaguely wonders if she shot herself in the head if she’d wake up on the morning of June 25 again, but she doesn’t want to put her friends through that even if they won’t remember it.

Because maybe they will, if it kills her. Maybe it’s because she’s getting shot in the chest that she lives to repeat the day. She isn’t quite ready to find out yet. No, she wants to see if there’s an easier way around this first. She locks herself in her bedroom for the remainder of the day. She does a lot of thinking – and some napping – until she’s called for dinner.

“Yeah, give me a minute,” Alicia shouts. She heads for the door, but she’s struck by a sudden idea. She goes to her desk and digs through the drawers until she pulls out an empty notebook and a pen. She’d meant to start journaling and never got around to it.

It’ll probably be reset after she dies tonight, she figures, but it’s worth a shot anyway. At the top, she dates the page _June 25_ _– Day Three_.

_I’ve died twice. This is the third time I’m living June 25, and unless I’m actually losing my mind, I bet the same thing will happen tonight. If this is still here in the morning, I’ll let you know. I haven’t quite figured out how this shit works yet. God, I really hope this will still be here, otherwise I am going to lose it. I think I need to start tracking everything that happens_.

“Alicia!” Luci yells. “Dinner!”

“I’m coming!” Alicia calls.

_So far, I know I die in the evening when I go to secure the perimeter. I guess the time doesn’t really matter. It seems like I have some amount of freedom, but the past two days – the past two June 25s – I’ve died and woken back up like it never happened. I wake up without any scars and in the same clothes I’d woken up in before, when June 24 first ended. No one else seems to know what’s going on, even though I guess I’ve really only talked to Al about it, and only very vaguely._

“Alicia!”

_I’ll start looking for more similarities. Maybe it’ll help me work this out_.

Alicia trudges into the kitchen, scowling.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Morgan says.

Alicia wonders if she throws her plate of food at him if he’ll remember tomorrow.

“Fuck off,” Alicia says. Strand snorts into his wine, and Charlie’s jaw falls open.

“Alicia,” June warns.

“No, I’m not _required_ to come eat dinner,” Alicia says. “You aren’t my family.”

“Ouch,” Luci says.

“I didn’t mean you,” Alicia adds hastily. Luci smirks in a way that says she already knew that, but even if she won’t remember tomorrow, Alicia doesn’t want her to think she doesn’t value her.

“Are you feeling okay, Alicia?” June asks.

“No,” Alicia answers. “Actually, if I could just go to bed –”

June dismisses her, and Alicia’s halfway down the hall before she realizes something. If she doesn’t go outside to secure the perimeter, she doesn’t die, right? She can’t get shot in the chest by whoever’s beyond the fence if she isn’t outside. Maybe that’s how this ends.

She’s reaching for the doorknob to her bedroom when she hears Al’s voice carry down the hall from the kitchen. “It’s no big deal,” Al says. “I’ll secure the perimeter tonight.”

Alicia’s blood runs cold. She’s not going to get out of this so easily, is she? If she lets Al go out there alone, maybe Al gets shot instead – and maybe Al won’t come back. No one else has before, right? Actually, Alicia doesn’t know that – doesn’t have a way to know that.

“Wait!” Alicia screams. The back door slams shut. She takes off running, nearly knocking down poor Charlie on her way through the kitchen. She flings the back door open, stepping into the dirt with bare feet. She never bothered to change out of her pajamas. Alicia’s chest heaves as she searches the yard around her for any sign of Al. The sun is only just setting, so the sky looks like it’s bleeding. Just like Alicia’s going to be within the next few minutes, she supposes.

She sprints around the factory until she finds Al studying the stretch of woods beyond the fence.

“Al,” Alicia breathes.

“Jesus Christ, Alicia,” Al says. She looks her over and adds, “What’re you doing out here? You aren’t even wearing shoes –”

“Forget that,” Alicia says. “You need to get inside.”

“What? No, I think there’s something out –”

Alicia can’t explain the irresistible urge to shove Al out of the way, but she complies with it, knocking Al to the dirt and accidentally putting her own body in the space Al occupied only moments before the gunshot rings out. Alicia knows this part already, but she forces herself to stay focused enough to take in the details.

Al fires off three shots into the woods. Alicia hears a body fall beyond the fence. Al reaches her side, pulls the handkerchief from her pocket and presses her hands against Alicia’s chest. The blood that Alicia coughs up doesn’t scare her, doesn’t cause her chest to clench in panic.

_Alright, you win!_ Alicia thinks as her vision starts to blur. _I won’t fuck around with whatever this shit is, okay? Don’t hurt anyone else. I’ll secure the perimeter and die every fucking night for the rest of eternity if that’s what it takes._

Al’s more than visibly shaken this time. Alicia attributes this to the fact that Al believes she should be the one dying instead of Alicia – and Al doesn’t know Alicia has already come back from this two other times. Alicia, of course, can’t tell any of this to Al now that there’s a bullet lodged in her chest and blood constantly rising in her throat. Alicia pulls Al’s hands away from her chest; she wants this to happen as quickly as possible.

Al, again, refuses to release Alicia’s hand, but tonight, unshed tears shine in Al’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Al whispers. Her other hand, slick with Alicia’s blood, goes to Alicia’s cheek, and Alicia swallows a mouthful of blood and manages a slight nod. She wants to tell Al it isn’t her fault – it’ll never be her fault – but she can barely breathe. Alicia ignores the arrival of her other friends, staring up into Al’s eyes, just like before. It’s all she can do besides hold Al’s hand and wait for it to be over.

_Day Four_

Alicia’s eyes pop open, and she immediately flings her covers back and heads to her desk. She yanks the bottom drawer open and pulls out the pen and notebook. She sets them both on her desk and steels herself, preparing for disappointment, but when she flips the notebook open to the first page, she sees her own messy scrawl from yesterday. At the top of the page is _June 25 – Day Three_.

_Thank you_ , Alicia thanks. _Thank you thank you thank you thank you._

Alicia shuts the notebook and rushes into the hall. She’s three steps out her door when she collides with someone, sending them both to the ground.

“Jesus!” Al complains. “What’re you in such a hurry for?”

Alicia springs to her feet and yanks Al back up, flinging her arms around Al’s neck before she realizes Al has no clue what’s going on. Alicia freezes mid-embrace as it occurs to her that Al thinks yesterday is June 24, and even taking the last three June 25s into account, Al and Alicia are barely friends, let alone the kind of friends that hug. Al’s hands rest tentatively on Alicia’s back, and Alicia knows she should let go, but she feels something close to what she felt last night before she pushed Al out of the way: she feels a strange urge not to let go yet. Alicia hangs on, dropping her chin to Al’s shoulder and inhaling deeply.

“Alicia,” Al says warily. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Alicia answers.

“Did something happen?”

Alicia hesitates. “No,” she says. She struggles to remember what happened on June 24. Al recapped the boring bits for her on her technically second June 25, the first one that repeated itself. But the more days that pass for Alicia and not for everyone else, the harder it is for her to remember what they think happened yesterday.

“Okay, um…this just seems very unusual for you,” Al says. “You’ve never struck me as the touchy-feely type.”

“I’m not.”

“Right, right.”

Reluctantly, Alicia loosens her hold on Al’s neck then steps back out of the embrace altogether. Her face heats up, but hey, Alicia can reliably say she’s going to die tonight, and Al won’t remember tomorrow anyway.

“I just got, uh, really happy to see you, is all,” Alicia mumbles.

Al laughs and rubs at the back of her neck. “Alicia, we live together. You see me every day.”

“I know that! I just, um, I had a dream that you died.”

That’s got to be the lamest fucking excuse ever, but it does get Al’s expression to soften. “I’m sorry –”

“No, it’s fine,” Alicia cuts in. “It’s cool. It’s – whatever. I’m just gonna shower.”

“Hey, wait!”

Alicia stops and turns back, eyebrows raised. “What’s up?” she says.

“Take your shower,” Al says. “But when you’re done, meet me out at the van, okay?”

Alicia barely conceals her surprise before she nods. “Yeah. Got it.”

Alicia showers quickly, though she’s pretty sure Al only wants to see her at the van because she feels bad about the dream Alicia lied about. Alicia ties her wet hair back and jogs out to where the van’s parked. It’s a nice day. Sunny but not oppressively hot. It’s been a nice day for four days now.

The back doors of the van are wide open, and Alicia invites herself in. Al’s on her knees, searching through her safe. She’s the only person at the factory who hasn’t – and probably never will – completely move in. She may live at the factory, but the van is still her home.

“What’s up?” Alicia says, putting her hands on her hips.

“I know I’ve got it in here somewhere,” Al says.

Alicia smirks. “Should I be worried?”

Al laughs. “No? Gotcha.”

Al sits back, pulling a box of tapes with her. She skims through the titles then pulls one free, holding it out to Alicia. Alicia stares at it for a long moment before she takes it. Her fingers accidentally brush against Al’s, and Alicia wonders why she consciously thinks about that. She flips the tape over and reads the label.

_Amina_

“I should’ve given that to you a long time ago,” Al admits. She locks her safe back up, tucks the key into her pocket.

“I can’t take this,” Alicia says.

“It’s yours,” Al insists. “And if you want the tape that finishes Madison’s story –”

“I mean, you should keep it,” Alicia interrupts. She holds the tape out.

“It’s yours, Alicia. That’s your mom. I can’t take that from you.”

Alicia grabs Al’s wrist and presses the tape into her palm. “I want you to keep it,” Alicia says. “Just promise me you’ll use it if you ever get around to making that documentary you always talk about.”

Al’s fingers curl around the tape, and she nods. “Fine,” she agrees. She stares out the van past Alicia and hums. “It’s gonna be a hot day, huh?”

“I don’t think so,” Alicia says. “I think it’ll be nice.”

“God, I hope you’re right. John wants me to chop firewood.”

Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. She doesn’t remember that happening the past few days. And they’ve been watching different movies. So she’s the only one aware of the fact that June 25 keeps repeating, but everyone keeps acting differently, too? It makes no sense.

“You can do that later,” Alicia decides. “You think John will mind if we take his fishing poles?”

Alicia doesn’t even like fishing, but she sits next to the river beside Al and tries anyway. John gave them the poles only when they promised to bring whatever they catch back for dinner, but it’s looking like they’re going to come up empty.

“Be honest,” Al says, stretching her legs out ahead of her. “Are you out here fishing with me because of that dream you had?”

Alicia, luckily, catches herself before she says _what dream?_ “No,” she lies. “I just…think we should spend time together?”

Al snorts. “Bullshit.”

Alicia shrugs. “No, it’s true. You’re, like, the one person I barely know here.”

“Wouldn’t you rather keep it that way?”

Alicia startles. “Would you?”

Al smiles and reels her line in. “No,” she admits. “I know Charlie better than I know you, and I think Charlie’s afraid to talk to me.”

Alicia laughs. “That poor kid,” she says. Something tugs on her line, and Alicia’s heart drops. “Oh my God! I got something!”

Alicia reels in a fish, and Al laughs as Alicia panics. Al saves her from having to get the fish off the hook, and after a brief pause, Al tosses the fish back into the river.

“John doesn’t have to know,” Al says. She winks at Alicia, and Alicia busies herself with casting her line again, hoping Al won’t notice how red her face suddenly is. She supposes she can blame it on the sun.

That’s the only fish either of them catch over the course of three hours. Maybe that’s because after the first hour, Al gives up and lies back in the grass, setting her fishing pole aside. Alicia catches herself glancing over at Al more than she’d ever admit, especially once Al unbuttons her shirt.

The thought occurs to Alicia only after Al pulls the shirt off altogether to bundle it up and use it as a pillow: _are you checking her out? Oh my God, what’s wrong with you? You’re totally checking her out! Get it together!_

Alicia decides she’s only checking Al out because of her severe lack of options. Luci was Nick’s girlfriend and is therefore off-limits. Strand and Morgan are too old, Charlie is too young, and John and June are together. There is literally no one else – except Al, who only has five years on Alicia.

Alicia’s going to die tonight anyway. What harm is there in a little staring? It’s not like Alicia’s going to do anything.

_But you could_ , Alicia thinks. _It’s not like Al will remember it tomorrow after you die tonight._

Hmm. There’s a thought.

Not a thought Alicia particularly likes. She’s literally died three times so far, but here she is, sitting beside a river with a fishing pole in her hands, panicking over something as stupid as _what if I like Al?_

“Tell me something,” Al says, and Alicia jumps so hard she nearly drops her pole. Thankfully, Al’s eyes are shut as the sun shines on her face and neck, so she doesn’t see Alicia startle.

“Like what?” Alicia grunts.

“Anything.”

“Why?”

“Because fishing is boring.”

“It’s peaceful,” Alicia argues. “And there haven’t even been any walkers to ruin it.”

“Don’t speak so soon.”

“What do you want to know?” Alicia asks.

Al inhales deeply. “Your deepest, darkest secret.”

Alicia laughs. “Which one? I have a lot.”

“See, that’s just depressing.”

“My life’s depressing,” Alicia mutters.

“Then tell me something about you that _isn’t_ depressing.”

Alicia thinks for a moment then smiles to herself. “You know, I’m a really good trombone player.”

Al laughs hard. “Trombone? I didn’t know you were a loser, Alicia.”

“Hey!” Alicia laughs. She shoves at Al’s arm. “I am _not_ a loser!” She pauses. “I mean, I was until junior year of high school, but that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Why junior year?”

“You owe me something about you first,” Alicia replies.

Al doesn’t even have to think. She pulls her tank top up to expose her stomach and says, “I have a scar from when I got shot in Iraq. Cool, right?”

Alicia’s jaw hangs open as she leans over to get a look at the scar. “You’ve been shot?” Alicia asks dumbly.

“Sure have.”

Alicia clenches her jaw and pulls her line from the water. “In Iraq?”

“Yup.”

“Why were you in Iraq?”

Al blinks. “I’m a journalist, Alicia.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you – I don’t know. Did sports reporting or something.”

“Sports?” Al teases. She pulls her shirt down and props herself up on her elbows. “Why sports? Is it because I’m a lesbian?”

Alicia splutters. “What – no! I didn’t – I didn’t even _know_ that. I just thought –”

“It’s alright,” Al interrupts. She grins crookedly. “I’m messing with you. Now what made you less of a loser your junior year of high school?”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I got a boyfriend,” she answers.

“Ooh, a _boyfriend_.”

“Shut up!”

Al laughs, and Alicia turns away from her so she won’t see her smile. Alicia’s eyes drop to the heart tattooed on her left arm, the one she did herself after Matt died. She twists her arm toward Al and shows her.

“He drew this on me before he died,” Alicia says. “I tattooed it myself.”

Al’s laughter dies. “So we’re back to depressing stuff, huh?”

Alicia shrugs. “Everything’s depressing now,” she mutters. She casts her line again, exhaling. “There’s no escaping it. I can’t tell you about my past without ruining it by being depressing, because everyone is dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“No, I mean – I’m sorry for pushing you to tell me.”

Alicia shrugs. “It’s okay,” she says. She manages a small smile. “No one really asks about my life anyway.”

“The boyfriend. Was it serious?”

Alicia smiles to herself and gives a slight shake of her head. “I mean, it was when I was with him, you know? I was young. Everything was serious. But I’m sure I would’ve gone off to Berkeley, and we probably would’ve broken up, but who knows? It never happened. Never will.”

Something tugs on Alicia’s line, but when she reels it in, she pulls an old boot out of the river. Alicia feels Al’s eyes on her the entire time she takes to get the boot unhooked.

“You don’t talk about this stuff,” Al says.

“Do you talk about the worst shit from your life?”

“No. But – I mean, you don’t even talk to Luci, do you?”

Alicia shakes her head. “Why should I burden her with this? She has her own shit. And I mean, we shared some of the worst moments of our lives together. You did, too.” When confusion dances across Al’s face, Alicia clarifies, “Nick’s death. You were there.”

“I remember.”

“We didn’t know each other,” Alicia says. “I mean, we still kinda don’t.”

“I know more about you than I did this morning.”

“Yeah.”

Too bad it’ll all be erased by tomorrow morning. Alicia winces and puts the pole down. She pulls her knees to her chest and turns her head toward Al.

“You saw one of the worst moments of my life,” Alicia says. “Tell me one of yours.”

Al’s expression doesn’t change, stays carefully neutral. “I can do you one better.”

They end up in the van after returning John’s poles and telling him they caught nothing. He watches them suspiciously until Al admits, “Alright, Alicia caught _one_ but it was too small to eat.”

“He was a good size!” Alicia argues weakly.

“Too small,” Al says. She grins and leads Alicia to the van, where her grin is quickly replaced with a solemn expression as she remembers why they’re there. Alicia sits gingerly on the edge of the seats as Al passes her the camera and opens a box of tapes all labeled variations of _The Bog_. Al hands the one labeled _The Bog #7_ to Alicia, and Alicia turns it over in her hands.

“I shouldn’t watch this, should I?” Alicia asks.

“You were right,” Al says quietly. “I was there for one of your worst moments. I owe you one of mine.”

Alicia looks hesitantly over at Al. “What’s on this?” she whispers.

“It’s just me,” Al assures her.

“It’s you?”

Al nods. “It’s about my brother.”

Alicia swallows hard and pops the tape into the camera. She doesn’t know what’s worse: the Army and National Guard shooting at each other or the horrified look on Al’s face as she realizes what’s happening. It takes everything in Alicia to not stop the tape then, before Al’s brother even comes up, before she starts apologizing to the camera – to Jesse – for not staying. Alicia shuts it off after that, even though there’s more. Her hands shake as she returns the camera to Al.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Alicia says.

“It’s okay.”

“Nothing’s okay,” Alicia mutters. She covers her face with her hands, exhaling, but she lowers them before Al has the chance to get worried.

“Alicia –”

“You know, you’re pretty sunburned,” Alicia blurts.

“Forget about my sunburn –”

“No, I think June has aloe somewhere.”

“Alicia –” Al sighs as Alicia quickly exits the van in search of aloe. That should buy her at least five minutes alone, allowing her to process some things. She passes the clock in the kitchen; it’s a lot later than she thought, pushing five in the afternoon. Alicia retrieves the aloe and returns to the van with a new purpose.

“It’s your face, Al,” Alicia says. “It’s important.”

“It’s not that bad –”

“Just let me –” Alicia stops talking and giggles as she smacks a gob of aloe onto Al’s cheek.

“I can do it,” Al insists.

Alicia bites her lower lip and shakes her head. She smears the aloe around Al’s burnt face with her fingertips, gently. Al lets her finish up without further complaint then locks the camera and tapes away again.

At dinner, it occurs to Alicia that her death tonight will hurt Al more than it has the past three nights, thanks to their fishing excursion.

(What she doesn’t anticipate is how much it will hurt her to wake up in the morning.)

After dinner, Alicia promises she’ll secure the perimeter before bed but retreats to her room and flips the notebook open. Her writing from yesterday is still there, and Alicia breathes a sigh of relief, as if she’s going to come back and find it wiped clean. Who knows? She might. She writes down everything she can remember from today, especially the things that strike her as recurring.

_Here’s what I’ve got so far, after three deaths:_

_I’m always shot in the chest by someone beyond the fence_

_Al always gets to me first_

_I always wake up in what I slept in on June 24_

_I know there’s more, but I’ll have to start paying closer attention, staring tonight. In the meantime, I learned a few things about Al today. She was shot in Iraq. She’s a lesbian, which would be good news for me if, you know, I wasn’t waking up on June 25 over and over, which leaves no one else with any memory of the day before. And she lost her brother – Jesse._

“Alicia,” Morgan says, pounding on her bedroom door. “Please secure the perimeter.”

“I know!” Alicia shouts. “Give me a minute!”

_Anyway, I’m about to go die again. I’ll pay close attention, and I guess if I don’t, there’s always tomorrow, right? If I don’t find a way to break out of this loop soon, I’m going to want to die for real. How long can this go on?_

Alicia might as well secure the perimeter weaponless. It won’t make any difference. She’ll still end up with a bullet in her chest, unable to speak through the blood filling her mouth. She takes the gun barrel only because Morgan’s watching her and steps out into the night. No point in dragging it out. She goes to the spot she always gets shot down at and waits.

“Well?” Alicia calls. “Come on! I don’t have all night!”

She laughs to herself, twirling the gun barrel around. She hears the familiar snapping of twigs, and she’s almost relieved. For a second there, she thought maybe she was off the hook. The gun fires, blood spreads across the front of Alicia’s shirt, and she drops to the ground. She urges herself to bleed faster, before Al can get to her, but the back door slams shut. Three shots are fired into the woods. A body falls. Al drops to her knees at Alicia’s side. She pulls the handkerchief from her pocket, presses both her hands to Alicia’s chest.

Too hard. She’s never used this much pressure before, and Alicia makes a small grunting sound in the back of her throat, garbled by the blood already beginning to choke her.

“Head to the side,” Al whispers. “Come on. Tilt your head to the side, Alicia.”

Alicia does as she’s told, lets the blood run down the side of her face as it fills her mouth. Somehow, Al pushes down even harder on Alicia’s chest, and Alicia just manages to breathe out, “Ow.”

“Shh,” Al says. “June! Hurry up!”

Alicia spits a mouthful of blood out and forces herself to whisper, “Not your fault.”

“It’s okay,” Al says. “It’s okay. June will fix it.”

“No.”

Al nods, pressing her lips together. Alicia can feel Al’s hands trembling, and she closes her eyes. She was right. It’s worse for Al tonight than the other three nights.

“Open your eyes,” Al orders, but now that they’re closed, Alicia doesn’t want to open them. She’s supposed to be focused on what doesn’t change, but she can’t. She can’t open her eyes. She hears June tell Al there’s nothing to be done, hears Al argue with her over it. Alicia barely has the energy to cough up the blood threatening to suffocate her.

Al finally stops applying crushing pressure to Alicia’s chest and takes her hand instead. Al’s other hand rests on Alicia’s forehead. Both Al’s hands tremble.

_Die faster_ Alicia thinks. _Please, Jesus, die faster_.

_Day Five_

Alicia wakes up.

She steps into the hall as Al rounds the corner. Al smiles at her, says, “Good morning,” and keeps walking.

Al isn’t sunburned.

Alicia retreats back into her room and pulls out the notebook. Nothing’s missing. Alicia titles the page _June 25 – Day Five_. Beneath it, Alicia writes one sentence.

_She doesn’t remember anything._

Alicia pushes away from the desk and clamps a hand over her mouth to prevent anyone who might be around from hearing her sobs. She turns and punches the wall until her knuckles split, until her blood stains the white paint, until she’s broken more bones than she knows.

It isn’t until Al and Luci literally break the door down that Alicia realizes she’s screaming. Al restrains her, locking her arms behind her back, pulling her away from the wall. Al and Luci are speaking, but Alicia doesn’t hear a word.

“Hey! _Hey_!” Al yells, almost directly in Alicia’s ear. “Calm down! You need to calm down, Alicia. Breathe.”

Alicia stops screaming. Her hand burns like it’s been lit on fire, and she can’t move her fingers. It’s a bloody, bruised mess, and Al is careful not to touch it when she sweeps Alicia off her feet and carries her in her arms to the infirmary.

“You don’t remember,” Alicia mumbles into Al’s neck, almost deliriously. “You don’t remember.”

“I don’t remember what?” Al says.

“You don’t remember anything.”

“Alicia, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We went fishing yesterday.”

Al hesitates, but she doesn’t stop walking at a brisk pace. Her muscles strain beneath Alicia’s weight, but she keeps a strong hold on her. “Alicia, we didn’t –”

“I know.”

June spends two hours tending to Alicia’s hand, and Alicia doesn’t speak a single word no matter how many times June tries to engage her. Luci spends the entire time at Alicia’s side, holding her other hand, but Alicia doesn’t speak to her, either.

“Are you sleeping?” Luci asks. She touches the pad of her thumb gently to Alicia’s cheek, a frown on her face. “You look tired.”

Frankly, Alicia’s not sure that what happens to her between the time she dies and the time she wakes up can be called _sleep_. Alicia shrugs in response to Luci’s question.

“Luci, can you get her something clean to wear?” June asks. “She’s covered in blood.”

Luci nods, squeezes Alicia’s shoulder, and disappears. Alicia ignores the instructions June gives her. Her hand will be fine in the morning, but June won’t understand that. June wraps Alicia’s hand tightly and warns her not to do any further damage. Luci returns with clothes and helps Alicia get dressed in them while June waits outside with Al.

“Keep an eye on her,” June tells Al. “I don’t want her out of sight.”

Al holds her arm out as Alicia shuffles out of the infirmary. Alicia flinches like she’s been slapped, so Al pulls her arm away. “Let’s go lie down,” Al says hesitantly. “Get some rest.”

Al walks at Alicia’s slow shuffle all the way back to Alicia’s bedroom. Alicia cradles her throbbing hand against her chest, expression blank, until Al nudges Alicia to lie down. Alicia’s eyes land on the wall, undamaged by her assault except for the blood splattered on the paint. Alicia lies down, hand resting on her chest, and thinks she shouldn’t have broken a million bones in her hand until she had the chance to record what she remembers from last night. She won’t be able to break out of this hellish loop until she nails down _exactly_ what keeps happening to her.

“Wait,” Alicia says as Al sits at her desk.

“What?”

Alicia scoots over until her arm presses against the wall. “Come here.”

Al pushes the desk chair in and lowers herself down onto Alicia’s bed. She kicks her shoes off and stretches out on her back, careful not to push too far into Alicia’s space. But Alicia doesn’t mind. She lets her bare arm brush against the sleeve of Al’s shirt.

“You should sleep,” Al says softly.

Alicia closes her eyes. “I’m going to die tonight,” she states.

She feels Al stiffen. “What?” Al says.

“I’m going to die,” Alicia says matter-of-factly. “I’m going to get shot in the chest, and you’re going to try and fail to stop the bleeding. And I’ll die.”

“Alicia –”

Alicia shushes her. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll forget by tomorrow morning.”

An uneasy silence falls over them. Al lifts her arm and murmurs, “Come here.”

Alicia shifts over without question, dropping her head onto Al’s chest. Al secures her arm around Alicia, and Alicia closes her eyes, protecting her hand.

“How do you know –?”

Alicia shushes her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna sleep.”

Alicia listens to Al’s heartbeat until she falls asleep. When she wakes up hours later, Al’s still there, asleep beneath Alicia.

That night, when Al’s hands press to Alicia’s chest, Al stares down in disbelief at Alicia. “How did you know?” Al whispers.

Alicia spits blood and wheezes, “Already…happened.”

“Already happened? What do you mean?”

Alicia closes her eyes.

_Day Six_

Alicia doesn’t punch any walls. She keeps it together today. The blood she’d left on the wall yesterday has disappeared. Her hand is no longer broken. Alicia flexes her fingers a few times to make sure, but there’s no sign that anything’s wrong with it. No pain, no broken bones, no bruises or cuts. Nothing.

Alicia stays calm and opens the notebook. She writes _June 25 – Day Six._

_Injuries heal themselves. Evidence of what’s happened is erased, along with everyone’s memory except mine. Am I going to have to do this over and over until…until what? Until I die of old age? Are we even aging? Five days have gone by, and it’s still June 25. Maybe I should throw myself at a walker and see if it kills me for real._

Alicia leaves her room right as Al comes around the corner.

“Al!”

Al stops walking. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Tonight around 9, I’m gonna go out to secure the perimeter,” Alicia says. “There will be someone just outside of the fence in the woods, waiting to shoot me in the chest. Wait – let me finish. My mouth’s going to fill up with blood, so I’m not gonna be able to speak much, but you’re gonna get to me first. You won’t be able to save me, and I’m going to die and wake up tomorrow, but it’ll still be June 25. You won’t remember any of it, but I will.”

Al blinks, lips parted. She stares at Alicia for a long time, but Alicia’s grim expression doesn’t change. Alicia doesn’t start laughing at Al for being gullible, doesn’t give any indication that this is a joke.

“You’re looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, which I kinda figured would happen, but it’s true,” Alicia says. “It happened yesterday, and you asked me how I knew it would happen. It’s because it’s already happened five times, and tonight will be the sixth.”

“I – I don’t know what to say,” Al admits.

Alicia nods. “You’ll see. Tonight, you’ll see. You just won’t remember it tomorrow, which is a shame, because I remember it all. I don’t know how to break out of it.”

Al nods. “Okay,” she says.

“You don’t believe me.”

“No, I – I believe you. I totally believe you.”

Alicia huffs. “You will.”

She spends the rest of the day locked in her room, but she goes out to secure the perimeter, the way she’s supposed to. She doesn’t take a weapon. She goes up to the fence in hopes she’ll at least get a glimpse at who the shooter is, but they stay shielded by the trees and darkness, and she hits the ground with no more knowledge than she had before.

Three gunshots. Hands pressed to her chest. Blood clogging her airway.

“You knew,” Al breathes. “This really has been happening.”

Alicia nods, choking on blood. Al tilts her head to the side, but Alicia knows this is useless. She needs to die faster. She pulls Al’s hands from her chest, but Al refuses to let go.

God, this is getting old.

_Day Twelve_

_Here’s exactly how it happens:_

_I go out to secure the perimeter around 9 p.m. (it doesn’t have to be 9 but it tends to be around 9)_

_I hear twigs snapping in the woods beyond the fence and go to investigate_

_Someone I can’t see shoots me in the chest_

_The back door slams shut as Al comes running out_

_Al shoots three times and kills whoever’s beyond the fence_

_I hear their body fall as Al reaches me before anyone else_

_Al pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and presses both her hands against my chest_

_My mouth fills with blood, so I normally can’t speak much_

_I get Al to give up on stopping the bleeding (to die faster, usually)_

_Al always holds my hand_

_I wake up in the same pajamas I went to sleep in on June 24, no sign of what happened last night_

_Only I remember what’s been happening every June 25 I’ve had so far – all eleven, twelve as of today_

_Every morning, the first person I see is Al_

Alicia pauses, reviews her list. When she’s satisfied, she writes one last line beneath it.

_What do I need to do to break out of this? There’s got to be something significant here somewhere._

_Day Fifteen_

Alicia reviews her list at least three times a day. She starts the fifteenth day by reading it over. Her body tenses. How could she not see it before? Jesus. The only other person caught up in this loop with Alicia – the only other person that plays a consistent role in the cycle – is Al. That _must_ mean something.

_AL!!!!!! How did I not see it before??? Al HAS to have something to do with this! Maybe THAT’S how I break out of the loop!_

Alicia hesitates, setting the pen down. She glances toward her door. If she goes out there now, will Al be there, like she has for the past fourteen mornings? What if Alicia’s wrong?

Alicia gets up and hurries out into the hall. Sure enough, Al comes around the corner, though today she’s whistling some tuneless thing to herself. This is where it starts, Alicia decides. The past fourteen days, she’s tried doing nothing, she’s tried telling Al she’s going to die – nothing has worked yet. Time for a change of strategy.

“Al!”

Al jumps, stops whistling. “Jesus,” she says. “What?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?” Al asks warily.

“I need to go to the river,” Alicia says. “Just – let me change.”

Al waits for Alicia, and Alicia lets Al tell June where they’re going. It’s a nice day. The fifteenth nice day in a row. Alicia wishes it would rain.

“We should get sunscreen,” Alicia advises. “Don’t want a nasty sunburn.”

It’s funny, because if either of them get sunburned, it’ll be gone by tomorrow. Al agrees, though, and snatches a bottle out of the van on their way to the river. Alicia takes them to where they’d fished on the fourth day and plops down in the grass. Al sits to her left, a respectable distance kept between them. That’s right; Al remembers nothing. Maybe Alicia needs to convince her _before_ she actually dies. Al has never believed her until it happens, so maybe _that’s_ what’ll break the cycle.

“Why are we out here?” Al questions.

Alicia smiles. “I’m glad you asked.” Alicia takes a deep breath. “I really need you to believe what I’m going to tell you.” Alicia launches into the same explanation she’s given Al before, recounting how she knows she’s going to die tonight, how it’ll happen all over again. She can see before she’s even finished speaking that Al doesn’t believe her.

“Alicia –”

“I know, it sounds crazy,” Alicia sighs. “We’ve done this before. You just don’t remember it.”

“I’m sorry –”

“Wait,” Alicia says suddenly. “I know what’ll convince you.”

“What?”

“I know things about you that I shouldn’t. Things you told me on past June 25s and don’t remember telling me now.”

Al sends her a doubtful look. “Like what?”

“You’re a lesbian,” Alicia blurts.

Al’s eyebrows raise. “Yeah,” she says. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“No, I mean – you told me you’re a lesbian when I assumed you reported on sports,” Alicia says. “We had a whole conversation by this river about it.”

“About my lesbianism?”

“No! About your job.”

After a slight pause, Al says, “You think I was a sports reporter?”

“No! I mean, I did, but you set me straight,” Alicia says. “You told me you were shot in Iraq. You showed me the scar you have on your stomach.”

Al visibly stiffens. “How did you know that?” she says quietly. “I’ve never talked about –”

“You did,” Alicia cuts in. “You talked about it with me, right here. You just don’t remember because June 25 has been resetting itself over and over. It’s my fifteenth June 25, Al.”

“I don’t – you must’ve seen it somehow or – or someone else did and told you –”

“No,” Alicia says. “You told me. You showed me.”

“I showed you?”

Alicia sighs. She pauses, just for a moment, before she says, “I know what happened to Jesse.”

She’s surprised Al doesn’t deck her right then and there. “You _what_? You went through my personal stuff –”

“No, you showed me,” Alicia interrupts. “You told me to watch the tape. _The Bog #7_. Come on, Al. I would’ve never known that would be the tape about your brother unless you’d specifically given it to me.”

Al sits in stunned silence.

“I need you to believe me,” Alicia finally says. “I can’t keep dying the same way every day over and over. It’s driving me insane. I need this to end.”

“So why do you need me to believe you?” Al asks.

“I think – I think you’re an important part of this loop,” Alicia admits. “You’re always the first person I see when I wake up, and you’re always the one that kills the person that kills me, and you always reach me first. There’s something about you.”

A smile flickers on Al’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by a troubled look. “You think if I believe you, it’ll break the loop?”

“I don’t know,” Alicia says. “But I’m hoping it will. Something has to, right? I can’t be stuck in this forever.”

“I don’t know how you could’ve known those things,” Al says.

“Exactly.”

“How will you know if this works?” Al asks. “If I believe you – how will you know?”

Alicia hesitates. “I guess I either won’t die tonight, or I’ll die for good.”

Al frowns. “And if it ends with you dying for good?”

“At least I’ll be dead,” Alicia says. “And I don’t have to relive June 25 again.”

Al nods solemnly. “Maybe…maybe you should do something different,” Al suggests.

“Different how?”

Al shrugs. “I don’t know. Something you haven’t done before. Just in case you do actually die tonight.”

Alicia considers this for a moment. She stares at the river ahead of them, watching the gentle flow of water, remembering the last time she sat here with Al. If she’s going to die for real tonight, what does she want to do?

Alicia stands, smirking, and kicks her shoes off. Al watches Alicia curiously as she bends down and pulls off her socks. Al’s jaw falls open as Alicia unbuckles her belt and pulls it free of her jeans, dropping it to the dirt.

“What are you doing?” Al asks slowly.

“Something I haven’t done before,” Alicia replies. She slides her jeans down her legs and steps out of them. She pulls her shirt over her head and reaches back for the clasp of her bra.

“Oh my God! Alicia!” Al blurts. She covers her eyes with her hand. “That isn’t – you shouldn’t just get naked –”

“What?” Alicia says innocently. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“ _What_?”

Alicia frowns. “Actually, it was just my tits for, like, a split second. I know you don’t remember, but that’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

Al doesn’t lower her hand until after Alicia splashes into the river, cursing at the cold water. She crosses her arms over her chest, as if that’s going to warm her. Her teeth chatter, but she manages a grin when Al looks her way.

“You’ve lost it,” Al says.

“It’s kind of nice, actually.”

“You’re freezing.”

Alicia shakes her head, though she doubts that’s convincing. “You know what I don’t get?” she calls. Reluctantly, Al gets to her feet and shuffles closer to the edge of the river.

“What?” Al says.

“We all could die at any moment,” Alicia says. “A walker could grab us right now and kill us in the span of three seconds. So tell me, why on _earth_ don’t John and June just fuck constantly?”

Al busts out laughing, running her fingers through her hair. “That’s a good point,” she says. She smiles wryly. “Unfortunately not all of us are in the same position as John and June.”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I literally just got naked in front of you and you covered your eyes.”

“I was being polite!”

“And I was offering you a chance to stare, but I’ll try not to be offended.”

Alicia watches the gears turn in Al’s brain. And they _are_ turning; it’s just happening too slowly for Alicia’s taste.

“You…wanted me to stare at you?”

“I know you don’t remember the last fifteen days like I do, which really sucks, because I think we’ve gotten to be really good friends. Or we _would_ be good friends, if every day didn’t restart and wipe your memories of everything that’s happened.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Alicia smiles and holds her hands out. “Help me out,” she says.

Thankfully, Al is too trusting, and Alicia has no problem yanking her into the icy water with her. Alicia shifts back as Al stumbles into the river, fully submerging then quickly popping up. Al gasps, shaking her wet hair out of her face, then she glares at Alicia.

“How dare you,” Al splutters. Alicia reaches over and pushes Al’s hair back, but Al swats her hand away. “It’s fucking _cold_.”

Alicia giggles. “You’re not the one who’s naked. Besides, a little cold water won’t hurt.”

“Alicia, there could be walkers –”

“There won’t be any walkers,” Alicia dismisses. She grasps onto Al’s shoulders, dares to stare her in the eye.

“Alicia, what are you doing?” Al asks warily.

“Something I wish I would’ve done a long time ago.”

Alicia pushes her hands into Al’s hair, kisses her like she wishes she would’ve days ago. Al’s hands are warm at Alicia’s waist, and Alicia thinks maybe she won’t have to put anything she feels into words. She thinks maybe Al can understand, even if she also can’t, because she hasn’t lived the same day over and over.

“Whoa, hey. Hold on.”

Al puts her fist against Alicia’s upper chest, nudging her back. Alicia shakes her head, lower lip trembling, and she sinks beneath the surface of the water before Al can say anything else. Of course, Alicia can’t stay under for long, and she comes up gasping for air. She flips her hair back and avoids Al’s gaze, even as Al asks her what’s wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Alicia says, swiping the tears from her cheeks. “Nothing I do matters. Nothing _we_ do will matter, because – because I can’t keep it. By tomorrow, it’ll all be…wiped away again. You won’t remember.”

“Look at me.”

Alicia does, just barely. She lifts her eyes to Al’s face, and Al manages a smile. “It’ll be okay,” Al says. “I won’t forget.”

“And if you do? You already have, fifteen times.”

“I believe you,” Al says. She nods toward Alicia’s pile of clothes. “Come on. Let’s get out. Put your clothes back on.”

“Why?”

“We’re gonna make the best of the rest of today. And if I forget…at least you won’t.”

“What do you mean, _make the best of today_?”

Al grins. “You’ll see. So go on. Get your clothes on.”

“And what? Leave you in the river?” Alicia says.

“I’ll follow. Unless you’ll be offended if I stare.”

Alicia laughs, shaking her head, and she gets out of the river. She can feel Al’s eyes on her, and it gives her some sense of satisfaction. She hears Al leave the water. Alicia gathers her clothes in her arms.

“You can’t walk back naked,” Al says, knocking her fist into Alicia’s shoulder.

“I’m not dry enough to put my clothes back on,” Alicia replies.

“You better at least try.”

“I think I can make it to the van without being seen,” Alicia says.

“You’ve got to be kidding –”

“If someone sees, they won’t remember tomorrow anyway,” Alicia giggles.

They sneak back to the van without being seen, as far as Alicia knows. She drops her armful of clothes into the front seat as Al begins to fight her way out of her wet clothing.

“Did you lock the doors?” Alicia asks.

“Yes.”

“Get naked faster.”

Al laughs. “Pushy.”

“I’m running out of time,” Alicia says. “It’s late.”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“That gives us, like, six hours max.”

“Plenty of time.”

By eight, Alicia detangles her limbs from Al’s and gets dressed. She made the best of her day, by most standards, but a sense of dread settles into her chest, and by the time she’s fully clothed, she feels like she’s suffocating.

“You should get dressed,” Alicia says. “It’s coming.”

Al grunts and sits up. Alicia’s just glad she’s awake. “Where’d my clothes go?”

“Up front.”

“Where’s my gun?”

Alicia grabs it off the shelf. She takes a seat and loads it while Al gets dressed and fixes her hair. Alicia hands her the rifle, and Al slings it over her shoulder. Al smiles and touches her fingertips to Alicia’s jaw.

“Don’t be so worried,” Al says. “It’ll be okay.”

Al winks even as Alicia rolls her eyes. “You’re too optimistic.”

“One of us has to be.”

Al heads out of the van first and offers her hand to Alicia. Alicia takes it, even though she can walk down the steps without assistance, and she doesn’t let go until Al heads inside to tell Morgan she’s going to secure the perimeter with Alicia.

“Hey, grab Alicia’s Glock, will you?” Al says. After a minute, Morgan appears with the Glock and a flashlight in hand and passes them to Alicia with a nod. Alicia swallows hard and checks the magazine. Fully load. She doubts it’ll matter. Al takes the rifle off her shoulder and turns to Alicia. “Where does it happen?” she asks.

Alicia motions in the general direction. “By the fence,” she says quietly. “I hear twigs snapping, and then there’s someone there with a gun. They always shoot me before I can get them. You – you always kill them when you get out here.”

Al nods. “Well, let’s see if I can get them first, alright?”

As much as Alicia trusts Al’s abilities in a firefight, she has her doubts about this. The whole _what if I’m already dead and this is what Hell is_ argument has gotten pretty convincing over the last few days. Alicia tries to shake the thought off and holds the flashlight, sweeping it along the fence.

“We’re almost there,” Alicia whispers.

“I’ll get them,” Al promises. She has a death grip on the rifle, Alicia can tell. Her jaw’s set. She doesn’t want to miss the shot.

“I know,” Alicia murmurs. She doesn’t bother to raise the Glock. She knows she can’t take the shot. There’s a rustle somewhere off in the woods, and every muscle in Alicia’s body tenses. It could be the wind, but given how things have gone, she highly doubts it. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah. Stay quiet.”

Twigs snap. Alicia braces herself, forces her eyes not to squeeze shut as she prepares to take the bullet to the chest again. When the gunshot rings out, she can’t help it. Her eyes close, and she inhales sharply.

But there’s no pain. No bullet penetrating her chest. Alicia’s eyes pop open in surprise as Al fires off two more shots beside her. The person in the woods drops to the ground, and Alicia sees the gun fall from their hand, unfired. Al breathes out in surprise, and Alicia clutches onto Al’s arm, heart hammering in her throat.

“You got them,” Alicia barely manages to say.

“Yeah. I sure fucking did,” Al replies.

The back door slams shut, and June, Luci, and Strand come running. “What happened?” June demands.

Al clears her throat and lowers the rifle to hide her shaking hands. “Intruder,” she says gruffly. “I got them before they could get us.”

“Oh my God,” Luci says. She rushes to Alicia’s side and grabs onto her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m – yeah, I’m fine,” Alicia assures her.

“We’ve got to get that body away from our perimeter,” Strand says.

“We have to make sure it doesn’t turn first,” June reminds. “Then we can burn it with the rest of the walkers.”

“John and I can handle that,” Strand says. “The rest of you should get inside.”

Strand smiles at Alicia as she passes by with Al in tow, and Alicia grasps onto his shoulder briefly. She can’t believe it. She’s not dead. She waits until all the weapons are returned to the armory and everyone has cleared out before she launches herself into Al’s arms. She’s lucky Al’s legs don’t buckle under her weight as she secures her legs around Al’s waist and holds on like she’s just won the lottery or something. Alicia almost cries, she’s so happy.

“Guess we’re not repeating June 25 again,” Al says into Alicia’s shoulder.

“God, I hope not,” Alicia says. She drops her legs back to the floor but holds onto Al’s shoulder, leaning her forehead against Al’s chest. “I thought it would never end.”

“It’s over,” Al says. She wraps her arms around Alicia, and Alicia hugs her back, trying to get her heartrate to return to normal.

“Whoa,” Strand says, skidding to a stop in the armory’s doorway. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was ruining a moment.”

Alicia and Al spring apart, and though Alicia’s face burns red, Al grins shamelessly. “What do you want, Strand?” Al asks. “We were having a moment.”

Strand grins back before he says, “I just thought you should know, Morgan and I recognized the intruder.”

“What?” Alicia says. “Who was it?”

“Logan,” Strand says. He pulls a handgun out of his waistband and adds it to the armory. “That’s all he had on him. I guess he thought he’d take back the factory single-handedly with one gun.”

“Apparently,” Alicia mutters.

“What an idiot,” Al says.

“No kidding,” Strand agrees. “Anyway…sorry about ruining your moment.”

Alicia waves him off, and once Strand departs, Al and Alicia quickly leave the armory in case Morgan’s about to show up next. Alicia feels kind of weird following Al to her room instead of going to her own, but there’s no one around to witness it.

“How’re you feeling?” Al asks once the door is shut. Her room’s no bigger than Alicia’s, decorated exactly the same, but somehow it feels more inviting.

“I think I’m good,” Alicia says.

Al nods. “Good. You know, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. And if you don’t want anyone to know –”

“Can we just – can we handle all this tomorrow?” Alicia asks. “I really would love to just sleep for twelve hours.”

Al grins and nods. “So you’re gonna stay?”

Alicia pretends to think about it then quickly claims the spot in the bed next to the wall. She’s not going to be falling off in the middle of the night, that’s for sure. She waits for Al to settle beside her, exhales contentedly as Al’s arm loops around her waist.

“When I wake up, it better be June 26,” Alicia says.

Al laughs quietly. “It will be,” she promises.

A few moments pass in silence before Alicia groans. “They’re all going to gossip about us, you know that? They’re going to say I fell for you because you killed my would-be attacker and saved my life.”

“And I one hundred percent am going to agree with them,” Al teases. “I mean, I _did_ save your life. More than that. I stopped you from repeating the same day over and over.”

“My hero,” Alicia says sarcastically.

“No need to thank me,” Al replies. They both laugh tiredly. Al falls asleep first, because as tired as Alicia is, she’s terrified to fall asleep. Because what if –

_Day Sixteen_

Shit! She fell asleep. Alicia bolts upright, disoriented, as she startles the person beside her awake.

“Jesus,” Al grumbles. “What’s going on?”

“I – you – what?” Alicia says dumbly. “What day is it?”

Al blinks. “It’s Saturday,” Al says. “June 26.”

Alicia exhales heavily in relief and lies back down. “Oh, thank God. I got scared for a second there.”

“You’re alright,” Al says. “It’s all good. I remember everything from yesterday.”

Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. “So what does all of that mean, then?” she asks. “Why did I have to repeat June 25 over and over for fifteen days? Why was I the only one who could remember anything?”

Al yawns and makes a noncommittal sound. “I don’t know. Maybe the universe was trying to tell you something.”

“You think this is about you?”

“Well, you _are_ waking up in my bed, and I _was_ the only one to play a repeated role in your weird time loop. So it probably has something to do with me, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” Alicia mutters, unable to suppress a smile. She shoves at Al’s arm and rolls over. “Go back to sleep. It’s early.”

“As soon as we walk out of this room together, the rest of the factory will be gossiping about us for the next six months, at least.”

Alicia’s eyes pop back open. “Maybe we should get up early,” she suggests. “Get ahead of the rumors Strand’s probably already spreading.”

“Only if we shower first.”

“Deal, but then we should cook breakfast for everyone,” Alicia says.

“You’re no fun.” Al stands, stretches, then adds, “I’ll race you!” and takes off running for the bathroom.

“Not fair!”

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, but in a good way. Alicia sits between Al and Luci as they watch _The Wizard of Oz_ for what feels like the thousandth time, but for once, Alicia has no complaints.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


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